Keriya didn’t have an answer for that, but for some reason, his words made her itch with shame.
“Necrovar is a seasoned warlord and a clever opponent,” said Max. “Ever since he opened the Rift, he’s been exploiting cracks in the empire’s strength. He’s turned the states against each other, making them do his work for him. Necrovar knows my father has a history of belligerence toward the other kingdoms, so he would seem like a perfect ally: powerful, aggressive, but easily manipulated.”
Keriya felt he was speaking more to himself than to her, rationalizing and trying to reconcile with the awful truth. She laid a hand on his arm and said, “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and sighed. “This is my fault.”
“No,” said Keriya, so forcefully that Max abandoned his brooding to stare at her. “It’s no good blaming yourself for things beyond your control. I should know. I do it a lot.”
That earned a chuckle from the prince, and she smiled at him. The smile was fleeting, for a heavy sense of duty was settling on her.
“It’s Necrovar’s fault,” she continued in a soft voice. “But we can save Thorion and your father if I face him. If I kill him.“
A cold thrill spread from her core into her limbs. That was what Shivnath had decreed a year ago. That had started her journey—now it was time to end it. No one believed she could do it, yet Shivnath had chosen her for the job. And however angry or frustrated she might be with the dragon god, Keriya trusted Shivnath.
Max nodded. No trace of laughter lingered on his face. “We should leave as soon as possible—tonight, if I can manage it. You won’t be safe in your quarters, so you can stay with me.”
They had entered a new part of the palace, and Max led her to a set of fancy white doors. “No one short of the king himself would dare come into my private rooms, and he’s too busy planning wars to bother with that at present. One of his faults is he thinks everyone fears him too much to disobey him.” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “I’ve seen true power, and I’m not afraid of him anymore.”
Max passed his hand over a keyhole and Keriya heard the soft click of a lock. The door swung open on silent hinges.
“Maxton Windharte!”
A shriek echoed in the hall, causing Keriya and Max to spin around. There, stalking toward them with her fists balled in fury, was Seba. She looked like a mad wraith—her hair had been let loose from its half-ponytail and hung in disarray around her gaunt face. Max didn’t have time to say anything before she stomped over and slapped him. Keriya gaped at the princess, who she was sure had gone insane.
“I’d never have believed it of you,” Seba seethed, her chest rising and falling as she drew deep breaths through her fish-gill nostrils. “I ignored the signs because I knew you—at least, I thought I did. The Maxton I knew loved his country. The Maxton I knew had a sense of honor and responsibility!”
“Seba . . . why—?” Max rubbed his cheek, staring at her in utter bewilderment.
“You’ve acted the fool, and you certainly haven’t bothered to hide your feelings, but never in a thousand ages would I have believed you’d act on them!”
“What are you—?”
“Now I find you sneaking off with this copper-derlei strumpet,” she screeched. “Bringing her to your rooms in broad daylight, for all the world to see!”
“Seba, keep your voice down. It isn’t like that—”
“Isn’t it?” She didn’t bother to keep her voice down. “I understand the allure—it’s forbidden, it’s new, it’s defying your father—but I can’t forgive it. You have a duty to your state, your empire, and me!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Max growled. “Come inside with us and we’ll explain everything.”
“I will never share space with that peasant again,” she declared, pointing a finger in Keriya’s face. “We’ve been betrothed since I was an infant. I thought you’d have enough decency to respect your king and mine, who arranged our marriage so they could ensure peace between our states—so we could avoid the very conflict our empire now seems doomed to!”
Keriya, who didn’t understand a whit of what was happening, suddenly felt the puzzle pieces slide into place with a resounding thunk. She didn’t know what ‘betrothed’ meant, but she understood the other word—marriage.
“Seba.” In contrast to her hysterics, Max spoke quietly. He placed his hands on the princess’s thin shoulders. “You’re right. I haven’t been fair to you. For that, I am sorry.”
“You don’t know the worst of it!” Seba cast a murderous glare upon Keriya. “Whatever you see in her, it’s not real. She’s done something to make you trust her when you shouldn’t. She’ll be the death of you!”
He narrowed his eyes, as if searching for some secret in hers. “Have you had a foresight?”
“You should be wise enough to take my word over hers. You’ve known me for sixteen years, Maxton, and never once have I given you reason to distrust me. You, on the other hand, have done plenty of inexcusable things. I’m here to put a stop to it, because I care about the Galantasa and the future of Allentria!”
“I care, too,” he assured her. “I know you must think terribly of me, but I would never put myself ahead of my kingdom. Nor would I put myself ahead of your welfare.” He drew her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her.
Keriya stood apart from them, an intruder in their private lives, an outsider who didn’t belong—who had never belonged—in their world. She watched in a numb, detached way as Seba’s arms snaked around Max’s waist.
“Go to your rooms. I’ll meet you there and explain everything,” he promised. “But no more screaming. We’re in danger—yes, even you. You’re the political leverage my father needs against the Galantasa. And at present my father is being, ah . . . more difficult than usual.”
Keriya took a hesitant step forward.
“Seba,” she began weakly. She wasn’t sure exactly what had passed between the royals, but she felt an inexplicable urge to apologize.
Before she could, Seba closed the distance between them. She slapped Keriya just as she had Max. Keriya reeled back, her cheek on fire, her ears ringing.
“You’ll never see him again,” Seba spat. “You’ll never be able to hurt him. You’ve lost.”
With that, she turned on her heel and marched away.
Max shook his head. “Go inside,” he told Keriya, gesturing to his open door. “Lock it behind you. I’ll be back soon.”
He jogged after Seba while Keriya retreated into his room. She found herself in a beautiful chamber filled with polished chairs and lavish white couches. An ornate rug lay on the floor, woven with red and gold threads. Across from her, a glass door opened onto a small marble balcony overlooking the clouds.
Keriya went to the door and let herself onto the terrace. Winds whipped at her, clutching her hair and tossing it around, but she didn’t feel the cold. She leaned against the side of the palace and slid down the wall until she was crouched on the floor.
She stared unseeingly through the columns of the balustrade, lost in a swirl of thought. A civil war was brewing. Her friends were in danger. Thorion was out there somewhere, alone, trying to find a cure for darksalm. Necrovar was growing stronger in the south. Her sword was missing. The king of the Erastate was plotting against her.
There were hundreds of problems for her to worry about, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about Seba and Max. About the way he’d placed his hands on her shoulders. About the way she’d hugged him.
Something halfway between a laugh and a sob worked its way through Keriya’s throat. She closed her eyes and marveled at the fact that, despite all she had suffered, something as simple as this could still hurt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Every road leads somewhere.”
~ Ustreli Proverb
As had happened befo
re, Keriya wasn’t aware of falling asleep. She hadn’t meant to do it—she unwittingly slipped sideways into a fitful doze.
Disturbing dreams tormented her. First she was flying above the mist-wreathed island she’d seen off the Aerian coast during the Ceremony of Choice. Then she was falling into the ocean. She was drowning in the water and there were bodies around her—including the body of her imaginary Prince Charming, the one she’d invented for herself when she had been young and foolish and lonely. She hadn’t thought of him in a while; he had been replaced by the real prince in her life, the one who was causing her so much heartache.
Keriya fell further into the frozen ocean depths and the bodies faded into oblivion. She fell so far that she emerged on the other side of the world, soaring out of the sunken sea toward a black sky. Mountains rose below, and she looked down to see an island with twelve stone obelisks standing in a circle like sentinels, guarding something.
Remember this, said a voice in her head. It wasn’t the awful voice that always told her she wasn’t good enough and filled her with doubt. It was a voice she knew and loved.
“Thorion?” she called, looking around as she fell upwards into the empty universe. Her motion slowed and stopped. Far below, the island and mountains vanished. She was surprised to find that she was standing on solid ground and that Thorion was by her side. When she tried to touch him, her fingers slipped through his form. He was a ghost.
“Keriya, I’ve done it.” His words were faint, as if he was communicating over a vast distance.
“Done what?”
“Found a solution.”
Keriya’s chest tightened as hope swelled within her. And though floods of relief coursed through her veins, she couldn’t help but note he’d said ‘solution’ and not ‘cure.’
“What is it? How can I help?”
“I will explain when I return to you,” he promised.
“That’s not a good idea. We’re in the Erastatian palace, but King Windscoure is just like King Wavewalker . . . actually, he’s much worse. Max and I are going to escape. We’ll meet you somewhere safe.”
“Where?” asked Thorion.
Keriya paused. They were running out of safe places. Noryk, the Galantasa, and the Erastate were no longer options, and going to the Fironem had always seemed like a suicide mission. But that was where their quest would ultimately lead them. That was where their story would end.
A shiver ran through her—though that might have been because she felt so cold.
“My ancestors knew of a safe place in the Erastate, a small mountain range mid-kingdom,” he informed her. “Humans used it as a shale quarry in the age of the dragons, but their mining destabilized the region. They deserted it for fear of rock collapses and avalanches. I’m sure Max will know it, if it still exists in this age.”
That didn’t sound like a particularly safe place, but Keriya wasn’t about to argue. “Fine. That’s where we’ll go.”
Thorion smiled. She reached for him again, trying to pet his bronze head and scratch behind his floppy ears as had been her habit in the past, but now Thorion was fading, too. Her fingers, stiff and numb from the chill that had sunk into them, fell upon nothing.
“Keriya? Keriya!”
Keriya came to her senses and opened her eyes. It had grown dark while she slept. She was huddled on Max’s balcony, her cloak wrapped around her in a vain attempt to block the biting winds. A moment later the prince burst through the doors.
“What in Naero’s name are you doing out here? Are you mad?” He pulled her to her feet and brought her into his chambers. Her extremities prickled as they soaked up the heat of the room. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
“M-Max,” she said around chattering teeth, “Thorion contacted me. He s-said he has a solution!” And she told Max about her dream.
“He must mean the Temariyan Gorge,” Max murmured. He looked pale, shaken by the news.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“What? Oh—yes, the gorge will be safe for us. Two humans walking around won’t do much harm. It’s just . . . I have a lot on my mind.” He sighed, looking older and more tired than Keriya had ever seen him. “If you need anything, go pack it—but pack light. Only the essentials. Meet me here when you’ve finished.”
Keriya nodded and left his room. She was hopeless at finding her way through palace halls—they all looked the same to her—but she crossed paths with a servant, and the kind old man showed her the way to her room. A driving sense of urgency propelled her. Thorion had a solution and Max had a plan for their escape. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
She entered her chamber and grabbed her satchel, rifling through it. She didn’t have much: the black headscarf from Cezon, the packet of laesabrel buds, and the book. Max had told her to pack light, so she reluctantly removed the ancient tome.
She opened it to a page she’d earmarked and stared at a picture of a white dragon. He had been painstakingly inked by the artist—every scale was shaded and highlighted, and though the illustration had faded with age, his eyes were so lifelike that they seemed to dance with purple fire.
Keriya firmly stuffed the book back into her satchel.
Through some miracle, she found her way to Max’s rooms. She knocked on the door and he cracked it open.
“I told you to pack light,” he said, shooting a disapproving glance at the bulging satchel slung over her shoulder. “What’s in there?”
“A book,” she said defensively.
“Books won’t help us. You’ll have to leave it.”
“Books are knowledge,” she retorted, “so it will help.” She didn’t know why she was making such a fuss. She couldn’t read the bloody thing, so its knowledge was indecipherable to her.
Max mumbled something under his breath about her being obstinate. He turned and continued to pack his bag.
“When’s Seba coming?” Keriya asked, attempting to sound offhand.
“Seba isn’t coming,” Max replied in a similarly nonchalant tone. “She will be safer and happier in the comforts of the palace. No matter what my father is planning, he would never harm her. Her station and her ties to me will stay his hand. He’ll protect her from what’s to come.”
Keriya bit her lip and nodded. She longed to ask more questions, but this was neither the time nor the place for it.
Watching Max, she noticed he’d armed himself. A quiver was slung across his back, a hunting knife hung from a belt sheath, and an odd metallic weapon was strapped to his right thigh, partly concealed by a leather holster.
“I want a sword,” she said.
Max glanced at her. “Excuse me?”
“I want a sword, since I lost my old one.”
“Do you know how to use a sword?” The skepticism in his tone brought warm patches of shame to her cheeks.
“No,” she admitted, “but I can learn.”
“I can’t teach you to be a blade master in the next five minutes,” he said impatiently.
“I need a weapon. You’re armed, so I should be, too.”
“Keriya, this is ridiculous—”
“How else will I protect you and Thorion?” she cried. Max finally stopped what he was doing. His face softened as he took in her stricken expression.
“Here,” he whispered, unbuckling the odd weapon from his leg and laying it on the desk between them. “You can have this. It’s a new invention—my father’s top men have been working on it.” He removed it from its holster. It didn’t look very effective to Keriya, for both its ends were blunt.
Max pressed the weapon against her palm, molding her fingers around the handle. “To arm it, pull the firing lever out and down.” He showed her a small, silver knob attached to a lever. “Then you’ll be able to pull the trigger, located here.”
“What does it do?” Keriya asked, turning t
he inscrutable weapon in her hands, staring down the cylindrical barrel at its front. Max gently wrested it from her grasp.
“It’s a handheld cannon. Point it at someone and pull the trigger to shoot. If your aim is true, you can kill a man a hundred heights away in less time than it takes to draw a breath. There are six rounds in there, so you have six shots.”
That thought gave Keriya the chills, but she allowed Max to buckle the hand-cannon’s holster around her waist. It didn’t make her feel powerful, as the bogspectre’s sword had when it hung at her hip—it made her nervous. But she’d asked for a weapon and Max had given her one. At least she wouldn’t be completely useless if they ran into trouble.
“I have to ask—though given where you decided to take a nap, I can probably guess—are you afraid of heights?”
“No,” she said, raising an intrigued eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to leave on a zipline.”
“Oh. Okay.” Keriya didn’t want to look stupid by asking what a zipline was; she assumed she’d find out soon enough. Max finished packing, threw on a winter coat, and led Keriya into his bedchamber. It was spacious and elegant, and the far wall was lined with shelves of books. She didn’t have time to appreciate them, because Max opened a set of doors that led to another balcony. Arctic gales swarmed into the room and clawed at her, making her eyes water. Raising her hand against the bitter onslaught, she followed him outside.
Night had fallen. The moons and stars were shrouded by clouds. Max opened a hidden panel in the marble wall and pulled on a lever inside. Keriya jumped as something burst from a recessed alcove beyond the panel, whizzing through the sky with a high-pitched whine. A dark metal coil was spiraling from the alcove, chasing—or perhaps attached to—whatever had exploded from the wall.
The line went taut. It quivered, pointing into the misty darkness at a steep angle. Max reached into the alcove and drew out a harness attached to the coil by a silver locking mechanism.
“There’s only one of these,” he explained, stepping through loops in the harness and securing it around his waist, “because this was an emergency escape for me. So you’ll have to sit on my lap.”
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